Skip to main content

Top five reasons to honor Halloween

I did it last year.  The year before.  And I'll do it again this year.

The children who come to my door on October 31st will meet a hideous old woman, wretched and hidden inside her black, hooded cape; her features smashed by a dark,  opaque stocking, her hands vanished in black socks.

She won't speak.

Instead, she will gurgle a terrifying, muddled murmur.

To the tiny brave ones who dare to step into the eerie, green-lit porch where bats and dismembered bones abound, she will offer marvelous, full-sized chocolate bars.

The candy will bring the brave children closer.

The timid will be terrified and turn down her candy rather than step into her lair.

The neighbors complain

When I was in my fifties (yes, when I was fifty-something-years old!) the neighbors began their annual complaint about my Halloween antics.

They claimed I take Halloween too far.

I don't need to be so frightening - the kids seek only sweets and a soft congratulations for the mother-made costume. They don't need the terror I impose.

Some said I have fun at the expense of children - an immature act that robs little ones of both the innocence and merriment of Halloween. They said I replace good stuff with fear.

I've heard this for over ten years, and I don't give a rat's ass.

My attitude?

This.

There are only so many Halloweens in our short, sweet lives.

Think of it - one day, when we least expect,  we will wake up - dead.

When that happens, the opportunity to "haunt" will be authentic and meaningful.

Until then, all we have is one night of the year - Halloween.

I intend to squeeze every possible scream out of every single child who dares knock on my door.

For those of you who choose (for bogus religious reasons) to ignore this magnificent celebration of the dead, I offer these five, simple, clear reasons why you are wrong.

Dead wrong.

The top five reasons

to honor Halloween - irrespective of age


Reason #5 - Halloween is the only holiday when we are encouraged  (and allowed!) to cultivate and exploit an alter ego.  If we cannot let loose and enjoy the dark side of our personality (or, the light, miraculous, cheery side) - we are poorer for the lack.

Reason #4 - It's true - Halloween is for children.  And we're children as long as we grab Halloween by the gonads and wrestle it to the floor.  Celebrate and stay young!

Reason #3 - Locking the door, turning off the lights and pretending to not be home on Halloween night will provoke the neighborhood children.  Granted, they might not commit outward acts of vandalism.   Even so - who wants to be known as the "mean old man" in the corner house, who can't open his heart or door on October 31st?

Reason #2 - Halloween is the first of a string of wonderful, fabulous, festive and outlandish holidays.

 Shutting it down is a bit like turning your back on fun.

Making it a grand event will deepen your gratitude for autumn and winter - - here, in the land of sludge, crabby neighbors and people who wear too many clothes - - even in the summer.

And reason #1 - Childhood is short.  Without your good example, those little children at your door will "trick or treat" five, maybe six times in their lives.

Don't let that happen.  Show them adults know how to have fun too.  Be a witch. Be a vampire.  Be Peewee Herman, if you choose.

Be the best Halloween grownup you can be.

Be a child again.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why I no longer trust the St. Paul Police

My dogs awoke me,  barking,  at 3:00 AM -  and I knew something was wrong. I grabbed my under-the-bed baseball bat and stormed into my backyard. The car next door had been burglarized; a neighbor's garage broken into. And the woman who lives in the house behind mine was robbed in the middle of the night. And so as the flood lights slapped across my empty back yard and my dogs growled, I determined to apprehend the culprit. I searched the yard for the wretched, evil doer who would dare take advantage of the decent folks who live in Como Park. Behind me, in my living room, someone walked out the front door with my MacBook and other electronics. Because I didn't check inside the house - I didn't discover the crime until the next morning. "This ain't CSI, lady."  I phoned the police at 7:30 A.M. It took him almost an hour to get to my home - and when he finally knocked -  I opened my door to an overweigh, winded officer. By then I was frant

Here's to you, Mister Hoffman

Dustin Hoffman is eighty-years-old.  Dustin - say it isn't so. Baby Boomers around the globe worship your legacy - your brave, outrageous career where you stepped out - risked much - and led us into our maturity. As Michael Dorsey in  Tootsie  - you exposed an artist brave enough to lampoon his feminine side. As Ted Kramer, in Kramer vs. Kramer  - you challenged other men to reexamine their ability to nurture, to settle for the glories of domesticity. And no one else could have exposed the complexities  of Raymond Babbitt as did you in  Rain Man.   The world honors your excessive and grand talent - but if these allegations are true, none of that will matter.  History will forget your artistry and remember you as a dirty old man. That's what I do not understand.  You're not a B list guy - - not a "made for TV" Hollywood guy. You're Hoffman, for god's sake.  And I cannot fathom you jeopardizing your lionized legacy around someone's seve

Overheard at a coffee shop; An old woman's wisdom.

When she was a small child, she posed in front of her nursery mirror - fascinated with her reflection.  Sometimes she emulated Betty Davis.  Sometimes Shirley Temple.  When she was old enough, her mother enrolled her in tap dance classes, hoping to channel some of that ham-bone energy into something constructive. It worked.   Twice each year, the tap school dressed her in frilly, fluff-flounced costumes, put her on stage with a dozen other little show-offs,  and together they tapped their way to elementary school stardom. When she turned 13-years-old, her tap-dance gang joined the downtown YWCA where they spent their Saturdays doing something called "creative dramatics." Swimming, archery, bowling and hula absorbed their weekends, and she made new friends who introduced her to neighborhoods and families she might never have met and enjoyed. In high school, she auditioned and was cast in every onstage opportunity. In college, where the competition stiffened, she turn